


No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition

by shealynn88



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-25
Updated: 2006-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22419979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Veronica just needs to not think about her life for a while.  And what better way to keep herself distracted than to take on a case and investigate rumors?  But when the rumors lead her to Weevil and Weevil leads her to the library, she gets more distraction than she'd bargained for.  [insert bodice ripping cover art here]
Relationships: Veronica Mars/Eli "Weevil" Navarro
Kudos: 17





	No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition

  
She knew she was grasping at straws, following Weevil around at all hours of the evening when she really should be studying. But, God, did she need something to distract her, and the drug dealing rumors needed to be put to rest.

She knew it was unlikely. Weevil had made his stand on dealing pretty clear when he'd helped Thumper to an early demise. But you could never be too careful…or too suspicious.

Especially when you were trying to forget the breakup of the century. It had been two weeks since the spectacular break with Logan, and she was still a little shaken. She knew it was the best thing for both of them, but it didn't stop her from aching.

Veronica followed Weevil into the library, hanging back for a few minutes and then sliding through the door just in time to see him start up the staircase. Well, _that_ was suspicious. All the porn was on the first floor. It was pure academia upstairs, not even a study room to be found. Just rows and rows of old musty volumes, none of which she could imagine Weevil having any interest in, and a few oak tables with rickety chairs that no one ever used. _Especially_ today. With vacation starting tomorrow, the campus—especially the library—was practically deserted.

She narrowed her eyes and went into stealth mode…so stealthy, in fact, that she managed to lose him.

"Damn," she muttered, peering cautiously around each successive row of shelves.

She let out a stifled shriek when someone yanked her into the low hundreds section.

"What do you think you're doing?" Weevil asked furiously, spinning her against the shelves and pinning her there, his hands circling her wrists and his body a hairsbreadth away.

Veronica pasted on a surprised smile as she fought to get her racing heart under control. "Weevil, hi! I didn't see you there—" she tried innocently.  
  
It was immediately obvious that he wasn't buying it. His mouth turned up in a mockery of a smile. "Yeah, what a surprise, right?" His expression went steely and his hands tightened. "Why are you following me, V?" His breath burst over her face, and she swallowed, her smile faltering for a moment.

She evaluated her options quickly and went for indignant. "Well, if jail has done nothing else, it's certainly helped your ego. What makes you think I've been following you?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking annoyed. "You want a list? I've _seen_ you, Veronica. A lot. You've been lurking around me for three days, and I have to say, it's making studying a little more stressful than usual."

"Well, why don't you let me go, and we can talk about this like civilized people," she tried in an overly patient voice. His proximity was doing nothing good for her thought processes, here, and she really needed to have her wits about her.

"What, so you can taser me, and live to stalk another day? I don't think so. I kinda like you…right… _here_." His voice got low and husky, and he looked her up and down, taking his time. She hoped he couldn't see the blush that she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"So, what is it this time?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "Did I sacrifice a baby? Kill some kid with rich parents? Or maybe I just ran another bus off a cliff? I seem to recall you thinking _that_ was me, too."

Veronica shook her head. "Look, I was just checking something out. It was no big deal."

He nodded. "No big deal. Right. Because, hey, I'm a criminal. What's a little less privacy to a guy who's used to a jail cell?" He leaned forward suddenly, and she fought not to flinch away. "What the fuck do you want, Veronica? Might as well just get it out there. Then you can quit with the stalking, and we can both sleep a little better." His hands tightened down again. "Talk."

He was pressed tight against her and it was hard to think, and he was probably right and she was being reckless and stupid, but it wasn't like she really thought it was him…she just needed something to do. And there was no _way_ she was ever going to admit that.

"A friend of mine…" She took a deep breath, stalling for time. "A friend of mine had their rims stolen. I thought you might know…"

His cheek slid against hers, and there was all sorts of invasion of personal space happening, and she was way too warm and not nearly as worried as she should have been. "Try again," Weevil whispered harshly. "If it was rims, you would've just asked. Second time better be the charm."

She spoke quietly, and as evenly as she could manage. "Fine. Mac's roommate had a bad trip. Mac asked me to look into it." And when was the truth _ever_ a good idea?

Weevil jerked back like he'd been burned and his eyes bored into her with real anger, and she knew this should be the time her flight or fight instinct kicked into overdrive. Honesty? _So_ not the best policy.

"And the first person you thought of was me?" His grip was suddenly painful as his jaw clenched and emotions flickered over his face too fast to identify.

Finally he shook his head, grimacing. "Why do you always think the worst? Huh? What the hell did I ever do to you?"

He took a deep breath, and some of the stark fury in his eyes faded into resignation. He leaned in and Veronica closed her eyes. The stubble on his cheek scraped against her skin, his breath slid into her hair, and apparently someone had just cranked up the heat another ten degrees.

"You really think I'd ever deal drugs? On your campus? Am I really that stupid?"

She felt his lips slide toward her temple as he growled, "Did you really believe I could kill innocent kids?"

His grip loosened just enough to let a little blood flow back into her hands, and suddenly he sounded more hurt than angry. His lips brushed her ear, and still she could barely hear him when he whispered, "Did you ever believe that I could hurt you?"

She shivered as his hand trailed up her arm and his knuckles brushed along her throat, and she knew she had to stop this. Now. Because if she didn't, if _he_ didn't, they were going to do something really stupid in the middle of the philosophy section of the Hearst library.

He wasn't holding her anymore. Her taser was in her bag. Her knee rested just inside his. And, honestly, she probably wouldn't need force. Weevil was a lot of things, and she'd accused of him of a wide variety of crimes, but the truth was that she _didn't_ believe that he'd ever hurt her. And his lips, moving hesitantly against the curve of her ear, resting gently against her neck…well, the sensation was anything but painful.

His lips stilled against her skin, and every breath sent a burst of heat though her. His hand slid slowly through her hair, barely a whisper against her scalp. He seemed to be waiting. Poised. Expecting some sort of rejection—a shove, a harsh word.

There were so many reasons to give him that. To say no. To walk away.

Logan would kill him if he found out. She was heavily on the rebound and not ready to make any decisions more complicated than tying her shoes. Her father was supposed to be calling her tonight from Chicago.

But if she'd been looking for a distraction…well, there wasn't much that was more distracting than this.

In the end, it wasn't so much a decision as a lack of one. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the shelves, and he took it as a yes. When he bit her throat, she gasped and grabbed at his arms, arching into him…and then suddenly everything was in fast-forward, and he was pressing against her and his hands were around her waist and sliding against her skin and she couldn't breathe.

She didn't realize that her hands had found their way under his shirt until he moved back minutely and let her help take it off. Her breath caught as she saw the ornate layers of ink and muscle that a few months had added, and when he moved to pull her shirt over her head, she let him. _Helped_ him.

His hands tangled in her hair and dragged her head back; his tongue traced fire down her throat and along the lacy edge of her bra. Every inch of her tingled and throbbed, and God, this was stupid and wrong and she _really_ didn't care.

She set a hand against the back of his head, splaying her fingers over his skull as he flicked his tongue over one lace-covered nipple. A high-pitched whimper spilled over her lips as she gave in to a stark need she hadn't recognized until that very moment. Weevil's hands slid lower over the close-fitted denim of her skirt and lifted her until she was perched on the edge of one of the wide shelves. He held her with his hands high under her thighs, fingers sliding underneath and resting intimately against the thin cotton of her underwear. Her breath lurched every time his grip shifted.

He lifted his head slowly, nipping and licking as he went, and then pressed forward between her legs and forced her skirt up around her waist. Her pulse raced in her ears and she got her first concrete proof that all that bragging he'd done in high school hadn't been for nothing. He pinned her with his body, holding her in place so his hands were free to unclasp her bra. He yanked it off without ever letting his mouth leave her jaw and tossed the lacy cloth over his shoulder.

There was a vague alarm in the back of her mind, telling her that this was the point of no return, that she'd regret it later, that it was a mistake. But she'd had a lot of practice ignoring that particular alarm, and she had no trouble doing it again. She pulled her knees up, curving her calves against his thighs and moaning when he pressed against her.

She tried to pull him back to her when he inched away, but then his hand slipped between her legs, and the slow sensation of his fingers working against her over a thin barrier of cotton made her want to scream. His mouth never stopped moving against her earlobe, alternately licking and biting.

The only warning she got was a quick flick of his fingers and the motion of cloth, and then he was burying two fingers deep inside her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder at the same time. The pain melted into mind-blowing pleasure as he crooked those two fingers and stroked deftly.

Her mouth opened in a wordless cry of pleasure and she bucked desperately against him, pulling him closer with her legs. "Please," she whimpered, writhing as his thumb found her clit.

"What?" he murmured softly against her neck, his fingers slowing maddeningly.

"Weevil, oh, God…" she begged, squirming and panting.

"Tell me what you want. I wanna hear you say it," he whispered, his thumb flicking and swirling.

She threw her head back. "Oh, fuck."

His voice was low. "Almost..." he whispered. He twisted his fingers and she was incapable of thought. " _Say it,_ Veronica!"

She knew what he wanted to hear, and normally it wasn't her thing. But right now, she couldn't think of anything she wanted more. She gave in with a breathy moan. "Oh, God, Weevil, fuck me!"

"Yeah, that's it," he growled, his voice suddenly rough. The stroking of his fingers slowed and then the only thing holding her up was her thighs around his waist. He watched her with dark eyes as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, taking his time and obviously enjoying that she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He took something out of his back pocket and then leaned forward to hold the shelf on either side of her, kicking off his jeans as he kissed her mouth for the first time.

She tasted mint and menthol as he licked at the inside of her upper lip, nipping and kissing with intoxicating care. He slid one hand under her thigh and his knuckles brushed against her as he put the condom on, the sensation making her hands clutch on his shoulders as she opened her mouth wide against his and pulled at him to bring him closer, closer, _closer._

"Easy girl," he whispered, easing back. "Let's do this right." And then he slid his hands under her skirt and grabbed the thin waistband of her panties. She had to lift herself off the shelf to help him, and then he put one hand on her hip to hold her up and the other was sliding the thin material off and tossing it behind him to join her bra.

Suddenly, they were close again, and there was nothing between them but the promise of pleasure and a thin layer of latex. All Veronica could do was close her eyes and feel the intensity of the moment as Weevil rubbed himself gently against her, sliding his length against her clit and then finally catching right _there,_ and holding, even as she tried to move against him, _onto_ him.

"Please," she whispered, trying again to pull him closer with her heels digging into the small of his back.

This time he responded, taking a deep, shuddering breath and entering her with agonizing care. Her breathing lost all rhythm as sensations of pleasure and pain rolled together, building as he moved deeper, a millimeter at a time.

When his body was flush against hers he stopped and she fought to breathe again.

"God," he whispered, breath rasping against her throat. "You're so tight.” And then he was drawing back and it was the same drowning sensation all over again, in slow motion, and she needed _more._

"Weevil," she pleaded, just managing to form the word around soft sounds of pleasure.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, the strain in his voice telling her just exactly how hard it was for him to be careful like this.

He reversed direction again and she dug her nails into his shoulders, making strangled noises that sounded vaguely like sobs but were anything but. She wasn't going to be able to take this for long. She opened her eyes with an effort, catching his and holding them. " _Fuck me._ "

His eyes went abruptly dark and he was completely still for a moment. And then he took her at her word, sliding back, slowly, slowly, and then slamming into her hard enough to shake the shelves.

" _Fuck,_ " they managed together as he paused. And then he curved his arms behind her for purchase and he was moving faster, harder, slamming into her with no inhibitions, and it was a good thing there was no one up here because she was moaning _whimpering_ panting loud enough to wake the dead...not to mention, the studying.

Heat built and coiled in her abdomen, and her hands spasmed on his sweat-slick shoulders as every thrust brought her closer. "Oh, _God_ , yes, don't stop, right there, right there, _fuck,_ yes!"

"God, girl, you got me close," Weevil growled through clenched teeth.

" _Yes,_ " she breathed, and it was permission and anticipation all tumbled together.

He shifted his arms behind her and his angle changed for the last few erratic thrusts until she was coming apart in his arms, panting and writhing with the painful intensity of an orgasm that started deep in her belly and radiated out in shockwaves that shook her whole body.

" _Fuck,_ " Weevil whispered against her throat, and then he was following, pressed so close to her that it felt like their skin had melted away and they were nerve ending to nerve ending, feeding off each other's pleasure until their throats were raw with it.

Finally, Weevil pulled back, drawing a gasp from her as he withdrew. He held her until she could stand on her own and then offered her an odd half-smile before he turned to retrieve their clothes.

Veronica turned away to change, feeling belatedly self-conscious.

As she pulled her shirt straight and smoothed her hair, she felt Weevil's hands settle gently on her hips.

"Feel free to stalk me again, anytime," he whispered against her ear.

She shivered as he pressed a kiss against the hollow of her throat, a brand of heat that lingered even when he stepped back.

She turned slowly to look at him and it was impossible to read what was in his eyes. She wondered if she was imagining the depth of emotion there, under the smoldering heat of sex. Either way, that look definitely made it harder to convince herself that she was better off forgetting this whole thing.

Finally he turned and walked away, leaving her alone to gather up the tattered bits of self-control and common sense that he'd torn away.

That she'd let him tear away again, given half the chance.


End file.
